


Perception of More

by ironhoshi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin can be a bit of a jerk, Anakin may have accidentally adopted someone, Canon-Typical Violence, Feral needs protecting, Fix-It of Sorts, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Nightsisters (Star Wars), Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Planet Dathomir (Star Wars), Saving Savage Opress is a must, Talks of Death, Zabraks (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironhoshi/pseuds/ironhoshi
Summary: "The spirits spoke to me," his sleep laden voice finally filled the space between them and his brother leaned closer. Savage never pushed aside his dreams, not when so many of them came true. Still, Feral couldn't help tensing slightly as his older brother laid a hand against his shoulder."And," reassurance-worry-concern."You kill me, brother."
Comments: 21
Kudos: 155





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I said to myself I didn't need another and then I wrote another. Darn plot bunny tribbles! They keep multiplying.

_Fear seemed to pregnant the very air, but that was hardly new when it came to the Nightsisters. Anything they touched was soaked in the emotion. They had learned long ago that the witches brought pain and death, but he had never thought he'd be staring up at his brother so bewitched. They had done something to him, something twisted and revolting._

_Nightsisters plucked life from the planet and tightened their fists until the spark shattered. Not once did they seem to stop and think what they were doing was inherently wrong. They were doing something to his brother and the spirits were whispering fast, furious, frantic._

_Watch. Listen._

_There was some brief recognition in the otherwise vacant eyes, but it wasn't enough. No, it wouldn't be enough. The end was approaching and soon the curtain would fall._

_Mother's corrupt power was absolute._

_Feral could only stare on with complete and utter trust, even as Savage lifted him from the ground by his neck._

_He'd fix this._

_They'd fix this._

_Then Savage's hand tightened sharply and the darkness slammed in._

His eyes snapped open and he had a moment of feeling his neck snap. Pain lanced down his spine while a faint gasp escaped him. Not real, he reminded himself, not real yet. He was unfocused while the remnants of the dreams seemed to hover in the air in front of him. A vision, a dream, a pure warning. The witches were going to steal his brother and take away the only bright spot in this dismal world. His breathing must have alerted the subject of his dream to the fact he was awake because Savage was propping himself up on an elbow, blinking sleep away from his eyes, trying to get ready to sooth away any terror. The thick blanket they shared pulled slightly away from him and Feral debated chasing after the warmth. 

The blanket wasn't going to fix the cold inside of him.

"Feral," his older brother yawned even while trying to become more awake. It hurt to see his brother's concern while the image of what his brother would become lived in his mind. They overlapped each other, coloring his thoughts. One caring and the other a monster.

"The spirits spoke to me," his sleep laden voice finally filled the space between them and his brother leaned closer. Savage never pushed aside his dreams, not when so many of them came true. Still, Feral couldn't help tensing slightly as his older brother laid a hand against his shoulder. 

"And," reassurance-worry-concern. 

"You kill me, brother."

The silence that followed was painful. Cold and brutal. Feral barely had time to brace himself before Savage was yanking him into a protective embrace. The blanket ended up wrapped around them while his brother seemed to tremble. Comfort that was tangled up with fear seemed to writhe violently in the very air, but he knew they'd sort this out. He had seen one simple outcome and it was up to them stop things from playing out in the direction of his death. He had full faith in Savage, he always had full faith in the brother that had raised him. Feral just had to remind himself that it was the magick that had turned his brother into something other than his protector. The magick was the reason he would die. He buried his face against his brother's shoulder as they sat there in the dark trying to seek solace in each other. They could tackle the problem in the morning. One more night of comfort, one more night of innocence before everything changed. 

When morning did finally come the Nightbrothers shuffled Feral off to the nursery. His presence would be masked amongst the young, a trick that had been utilized over the years and hadn't failed yet. He hated this, he hated that he knew the reason they were hiding him was all because he had told Savage the vision. They were all trying to protect him, yet again. His abilities had been proven accurate time and time again and he did honestly appreciate the fact they didn't want him to die, but...he couldn't protect Savage if he was hiding. He couldn't even be part of the council they were having to discuss how to stop the vision from coming to fruition. Feral sank down into a seated position as he tried not to sulk at the fact he was left out again. His visions helped cut back on the losses of the village, and yet, they still didn't think he was old enough to partake in the meetings. Feral was an adult, even if his brother still seemed painfully prone to treating him like a child. 

A rather brave young Zabrak, no older than three, waddled over to him before promptly hitting him in the shin with a rock. He dramatically winced, snagged the rock, and pulled the boy into his arms all at once. Tiny growls mixed with laughter erupted from the child. "Aren't you going to be a great hunter," he held the kid upside down for a moment and grinned at the delighted smile that appeared. Sharp teeth greeted him with a sort of joviality. All in all? This was probably the wisest place his brother could have hidden him away. The older caretaker had vanished for a nap, which meant Feral couldn't in good conscience sneak off to watch over Savage. He flipped the boy up, a mass of laughter, and caught him easily enough. Happiness seemed to escape the child in waves and Feral tried to ignore how it clung to his skin. He finally settled the kid on his lap before humming faintly, a simple nursery song to calm him down. His fingers carefully brushed over the small growing horns. Pure affection seemed to radiate from the tiny child and Feral felt a pang of sadness at the sheer trust. The young were innocent now, but in a few years they'd learn how cruel this planet was. They'd learn how the Nightsisters used them like tools that were easily replaceable. That unhindered joy would be beaten down until it was stomped out completely. The laughter would vanish. 

The laughter always vanished.

A loud sound cut through his thoughts and suddenly all the children were huddled around him, eyes fixed on the closed entrance to the large hut. Trembling bodies made his own shiver as terror raced across the group. A Nightsister was in the village, calling for all eligible males. No, he had hoped he had more time! Had Savage known? Had any of them known? Feral tried to displace children, tried to rise, but a moment of warning had him turning his head just slightly. He barely caught a glimpse of the twisted staff coming down before darkness reached out to him like a long lost friend. Later, when he woke up with a throbbing headache, he discovered the room rather empty. His gaze darted to the open door and what he saw caused his heart to sink. Night had very much fallen and morning was threatening to arrive. The hues of the sky more pink than the normal harsh red.

No.

No!

Where was Savage?

Feral scrambled to his feet, swaying faintly as his vision blurred. The throbbing of his head let him know he was sporting a rather nasty knot, but he didn't have time to worry about that. He needed to go find Savage.

"Easy, young one," the caretaker's voice wafted through the space and he paused for a moment. He glanced at the man, debated saying something, and then bolted from the space. Whispers bit at his feet while he ran towards the space he shared with Savage. Surely his brother would be there? Waiting for him. His fingers gripped the crude doorway and he yanked it to the side.

Feral stood there, staring, and felt the first twist of pain in his chest. 

_You kill me, brother._

Savage wasn't there. He knew, he just knew, that his brother wasn't anywhere in the village. All searches would turn up empty handed. In telling his brother the dream he had lost his chance to save him as well. He had been a fool. The ground seemed to suddenly grow closer as he sank to his knees, gazed fixed solely on the empty living space. 

"They-" His voice sounded broken to his own ears. Ragged and uneven. A hand landed on his shoulder, but he made no move to pull himself together. Savage, his brother, his protector, was gone. "They...took him."

"But they didn't take you," he was informed softly. 

"But they took Savage," the cry that escaped him was raw. Feral knew the village would look after him, but they weren't Savage. They weren't going to pile blankets on him when he had a nightmare or try to make him smile when one of his moods hit. They weren't Savage. They were not his big brother! Which played a large part in him falling into a depression as each long day following Savage's kidnapping passed. Feral fell into a routine that seemed to irk the Nightbrothers because of how in the way he made himself. He ended up sitting cross legged in the entrance of the village, staring out at the path that clearly traveled towards misery. He knew Savage wasn't coming back, but he waited each and every single day in that spot. The Nightbrothers tried to get him to eat more than a few bites at a time, they tried to get him to do something other than just sit there, but Feral barely moved. Nightbrothers moved around him like water as they came and went on their hunts. They all gave him varying looks of pity, some bordering on displeasure, and he ignored them all.

Something was coming, the spirits whispered for his ears only. He needed to simply pay attention. He lost track of the days as an ache seemed to grow in his chest. Festering with unease and anger. 

Feral shifted under the pile of blankets as he tried to face yet another morning. His dreams had been fitful and he couldn't really recall them entirely. There had been flashes of molten gold and infuriating crimson. Pain and anger seemed to try and linger against his mind, but it was chased off by a serene blue. Feral was starting to hate his dreams. He burrowed further under the blankets a moment more before finally forcing himself out of the bedding. His motions were almost mechanical as he went through the morning routine and soon enough he found himself heading towards the entrance of the village. The air felt different today and his steps faltered just a fraction, uncertainty pulling at his limbs. 

Why was today not like the others?

His footsteps halted just at the entrance and instead of sinking down he remained standing. Feral stretched his arms out to the sides, threw his head back so he could stare up at the sky, and then he screamed his emotions into the air. He screamed out the anger, the sadness, the feeling of betrayal. He screamed until he couldn't scream anymore and when he was done he felt hollow. The period of self pity was over, he couldn't do anything if he just let himself waste away. Savage wouldn't have fallen into such despair and there was a chance his brother was still out there. Feral needed to go find him...somehow. Maybe it was because he had been so focused on ridding himself of every single piece of unease, every unhelpful feeling, or maybe it was something else, but he hadn't noticed two people approaching the village. The man in the front wore a bemused look on his face, whereas his companion looked like he had just witnessed something disgusting. 

Feral felt like he had done something wrong. His cheeks darkened with faint embarrassment at having two complete strangers witnessing him giving into emotions like that. 

"Well," a refined voice drifted across the space between them. The spirits were suddenly excited and Feral could only stand there with wide eyes. "That is certainly one way to find balance, I am surprised you haven't tried that yourself." 

"Hilarious," the younger man, at least Feral thought he was younger, crossed his arms over his chest. "I have more control than that. Now, can we just get this over?"

"So impatient," the crimson haired one half smiled. "Now, if you are quite done, my dear, might you direct us in the direction of whoever is in charge here?"

Feral blinked and then it clicked that he was being addressed. If they wanted the person in charge then they were in the wrong place, they needed to seek out Mother. His uneasy started to grow, his breathing picking up while his chest felt oddly tight. Nightsisters. They'd be slaughtered-

"Easy, young one," the man was suddenly at his side, placing a hand on his arm. "We mean no harm. We simply have some questions-" A warmth spread from that hand, coursing through his body, comforting him like an embrace from Savage. He leaned into the touch slightly before he realized what he was doing. 

"Master," annoyance lashed across the space and he shrank back. That had hurt his mind. The man next to him frowned before glancing towards the surly one. "He clearly isn't of importance, let's just go interrogate-"

"No," Feral interrupted softly. He didn't care if they thought him unimportant, but he did care about them upsetting the village. The hand on his arm tightened a fraction, not exactly in warning. 

"What my companion meant to say is we are looking for anyone who might help us identify someone, someone who is from your village," the words had an underlying feeling of calm under them. They brushed up against his mind and he almost listened. Feral blinked before frowning deeply, pushing away the sensation. A faint hiss of air next to him caught his attention. He glanced into some of the bluest eyes he had ever seen and found himself forgetting what he had been doing. "Ah, I see…"

See? 

What did they see?

"You need to help me," the words left his mouth, but it felt like someone else was speaking. 

"Do we? With what, my dear?"

"You can't be serious-"

"Anakin, please. Just give him a moment." 

"The spirits want you to help me fix this," he blurted out. Something sparked in those blue eyes before a smile appeared on the man's face. 

"Do they now? Well, I think we have much to discuss."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He realized, with cold certainty, that it would be a long time before he set foot on his home planet again as he stared at the sleek starship. The ship didn't belong on Dathomir, much like the Jedi didn't. Too refined, too elegant. Dathomir was violence and things ripped into existence. One survived with blood on their hands or died amongst the weak. Simple. 
> 
> "Come along," Obi-Wan murmured while softly placing a hand at his elbow to steer him into the polished vessel. His fingers tightened painfully on the leather straps, but he squared his shoulders. There was no turning back now, not that he wanted to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer to write than planned, but then again everything is on fire. /shrug
> 
> I finally managed to carve some time to sit and work on this and I hope you enjoy what angst I have woven for this chapter. :3

Exhaustion clung to his limbs and Feral felt like each step away from his village was painful. The spirits wailed, the spirits sang, the spirits were giving him a blinding headache. It pulsed and writhed behind his eyes and tasted of ash. He didn't think that was the spirits, no something else was clawing inside of his mind. He was positive the spirits were thrilled with him leaving to go rescue Savage, but something else was not as thrilled. He had the whimsical thought that it was the planet itself that was not amused. That thought curdled and spasmed into one of Mother.

Mother wouldn't want him to go.

Mother didn't even know his name. 

Savage wasn't on Dathomir, but the rest of the brothers were. If he left, would they be able to protect themselves?

Would Mother seek revenge for him running? Would she even notice? 

The thoughts clashed and warred and the spirits buzzed against his flesh. They grew more agitated the more the turmoil blossomed inside of him. The sensation was rather like having swamp beetles bombarded him over and over. His hands rubbed at his arms, trying to remove the sensation. Spots of green seemed to crackle across his vision and only added to the irritation.

"It's alright, dear," Kenobi's lilting voice seemed to soothe the headache slightly. A hand landed on his shoulder, calming and comforting. "We are almost to our ship." _Our._ Feral felt his nose scrunch up at how that word made him feel confused. The buzzing dulled, slipping away as a sort of warmth wafted over him like glimmer netting. That feeling stayed with him during the remainder of the trip to the ship. He should have been glancing over his shoulder, should have been jumping every time the reeds rustled or the trees groaned, but he merely walked. His fingers clutched at the straps of his small travel bag as he put more distance between himself and the only place he had known as home. Feral hadn't had much to pack up and he had noticed the looks from the strangers that the spirits said would help him. Concern, pity, judgment. He realized, with cold certainty, that it would be a long time before he set foot on his home planet again as he stared at the sleek starship. The ship didn't belong on Dathomir, much like the Jedi didn't. Too refined, too elegant. Dathomir was violence and things ripped into existence. One survived with blood on their hands or died amongst the weak. Simple. 

"Come along," Obi-Wan murmured while softly placing a hand at his elbow to steer him into the polished vessel. His fingers tightened painfully on the leather straps, but he squared his shoulders. There was no turning back now, not that he wanted to do so. Feral had to save Savage. He sat down where directed to and stared at the wall as he felt the ship thrum to life around him. He was leaving. He was leaving. _He was leaving._ His stomach lurched as the ship broke atmo and it didn't fully calm down as the familiar signature of his home grew distant. 

Would Savage remember him?

Would Savage try to kill him?

Had he doomed the rest of the Nightbrothers?

Anakin set a steaming cup down in front of him, yanking him from his thoughts, but he didn’t reach out for it right away. No, he merely yanked the blanket around him tighter. The smell was pleasant enough if a bit unknown. “Thank you,” he said softly. The blanket was soft, a shade he associated with the corpse flowers in the hunting grounds, but it had a feeling of comfort woven into the fibers. The blanket was his buffer against the coldness of space. Fingers clung to the edges, keeping it closed around him. His gaze fixated on the way the steam seemed to curl above the cup, twisting, and dancing. Savage had often given him steaming cups of spice herbs when he woke from yet another painful dream. 

“Don’t thank me, Obi-Wan said I had to play nice,” the Jedi scoffed before sinking down into a seat across from him. “Do you want another blanket? I know space can be…”

“Cold,” Feral supplied. He shifted on the seat, pulling his legs up so they were under the blanket as well. Dathomir was far from cold, even at night. He had always had someone to wrap his body around, someone to bite back at the cold that had tried to reach out towards him. “I’ve never been off Dathomir. I’m used to the...humidity and heat.” He thought he saw a flicker of something in Anakin’s face, but he wasn’t entirely positive. “I’m fine. I mean without another blanket. Thank you.” He finally reached for the cup of tea and felt a tad confused by whatever look he was receiving from the Jedi. He preferred the Jedi with the facial hair, he seemed nicer. The cup was warm and eased the faint shiver in his hand. Feral took a large sip in an attempt to get that warmth inside of him and choked. He recoiled hard, setting the cup down, and tried not to spit the drink out. The drink was cloying and coated the inside of his mouth. 

Sugar tried to rip shreds out of his mind.

“Anakin,” a cultured voice cut through the small space and Feral could only blink as a hand snagged the cup off the table. “Must you be so welcoming like that?” 

“How was I to know he couldn’t handle the sweetness, Obi-Wan?” Feral couldn’t help thinking Anakin sounded rather like one of the children that had been caught playing with the jars of ink. They always made such messes and left tiny little handprints all over everything. A faint sense of unease settled around him rather like the blanket. Anakin didn’t like him. Honestly, it didn’t matter if the Jedi with galaxies in his eyes liked him or not. He only cared about getting Savage back and he could handle being shunned as long as the ends justified the means.

“Really?” Obi-Wan said it in such a way that even Feral felt the rebuke. He was surprised when the man took a swig from the cup and coughed. “Force, how much sweetener did you waste on my poor tea? Is the whole kettle this way?”

Anakin actually flushed and seemed to fold in on himself slightly. 

"It's fine," Feral scrambled to say and felt the surprise in the air. Obi-Wan was giving him a peculiar look and Anakin looked contemplative. “I just- I was caught off guard. Food tends to be spicier to distract from the toughness of most of the meats.” 

Obi-Wan let out a faint hum before downing the rest of the offending tea. He slammed the cup down on the table and pointed a finger at Anakin. “Fix this, I have some reports to finish.” That finger swung towards Feral and he couldn’t help the way his eyes widened in surprise. “And you, my dear, you are allowed to speak up when something is not just.” 

What?

He blinked at Obi-Wan rather like a mimicry of a night shrieker. He couldn’t quite seem to find a rebuttal before the older Jedi was sweeping out of the room. He blinked again and then Anakin burst out laughing. The mere atmosphere of the room changed instantly and he turned his face towards the sudden warmth. There, coiling inside of Anakin, was a brightness that threatened to blind him. He leaned closer as if basking in sunlight that wasn’t trying to bleach his bones and let out the faintest of sighs. Something changed slightly on the ship after that. Feral still felt like he was on the outside, as he should be, but Anakin wasn’t trying to poison him anymore. They talked softly at times, trading tales about how to combat coldness or even discussing what it was like to hurl oneself off a very tall ledge. Sometimes they even talked about Savage. When he spoke of Savage Anakin always got a strange sort of look, a look he never could clearly associate with any emotion he recognized. He knew, deep down, Anakin still didn’t like him, didn’t trust him, that he was putting up with him. 

“Hey, Fidge,” the startling blue eyes were suddenly focused on him while he was trying to draw a map from his village to where he thought the Nightsisters were. He frowned as he glanced up towards the Jedi, stylus pausing in the journey across the image, and waited. “Why didn’t you just rise up against the witches?”

“We...didn’t have weapons. No, I mean,” he laid the stylus down as he gave the childish Jedi in front of him his full attention. “We had what we needed to hunt, but that would do nothing against the Nightsisters. They controlled what we got and if we had even thought about an uprising…” His words trailed off as images of Brothers falling under green filled his mind. They were screaming, trying to protect the children, and each one had a look of horror etched into the markings on their faces. 

“So the witches, what, were your overlords?” 

He blinked away the garish vision and nodded. The next moment he was shaking his head as he tried to figure out how to explain properly. “The Nightsisters are the rulers of the planet, they control everything, we are just tools for them to use. They owned us.”

Something dark settled in Anakin’s face as he leaned forward, invading Feral’s space. Gloved fingers snagged his chin, forcing him to meet those eyes, and he wasn’t sure what he saw staring back at him. “Not anymore, Fidge,” Anakin finally said while bursts of amber seemed to erupt in the endless blue starlight. A faint squeeze of the fingers and then he was walking away, leaving Feral to sit in confusion. Oh, he had forgotten to ask why the other had started to call him Fidge. He sighed softly as he glanced down at the crude map he had been drawing. He had messed up the swamps. 

He was asleep when they finally landed. The constant thrumming of the ship stopped suddenly, yanking him from his rest, and Feral tried to untangle himself from the pile of blankets. Somehow, over the course of the trip, more and more blankets had appeared. No one had said a word and Feral had eventually stopped shivering at night. Now? The blankets were slowing him down as he tried to figure out what was going on. Anakin appeared, grabbed his arm, and pulled him free of the pile. 

“Come on, Fidge. Time to go meet the troops.”

Feral wasn’t fully awake yet and could only shoulder the bag thrust at him. Troops? What troops? He followed Anakin and smiled tentatively at Obi-Wan when they met up with him. The older Jedi gave him a smile full of warmth and inclined his head ever so faintly. “Good morning, I see Anakin waited until the last moment to wake you.” His cheeks darkened as Obi-Wan reached out to smooth a wrinkle out of the front of his shirt. “We will have to be sure to visit the quartermaster once we get you settled. Get you something a bit more…”

“Warm,” Anakin offered helpfully.

“Practical,” Obi-Wan finished with a bemused look. 

Feral just felt confused. He didn’t get the chance to voice his opinion on new clothes or the like because he was suddenly being ushered off the ship and out into a far larger ship. Ships inside of ships. Now, he wasn’t an idiot, he just wasn’t exactly the most knowledgeable about the galaxy at large. The Nightbrothers did their best to teach each other and hand down tales of various visitors to Dathomir, but those stories around campfires had done nothing to prepare him for the sight of this. The spirits clung to him as helmets turned towards them. His gaze flickered to a large opening and he forgot how to actually get oxygen into his lungs. The stars were so close. 

He was among the stars. 

If he reached out, could he grab one?

Something hurt inside of him. He wanted his brother by his side to see each brilliant ball of light. They didn’t form up the constellations he recognized, but he was positive they all had their own stories. The stars kept the hunters of the past, they kept the stories going when no one else was left to whisper the words.

Savage would have loved this. 

“Rex,” Anakin was saying with actual pure joy. “This is Fidge! He is going to help us hunt the new Sith Lord.” The Jedi was waving an arm through the air towards him and he managed to yank his gaze away from the stars. This was the most animated he had seen the one who had once tried to destroy him with sweetness. There was a boyish delight in that face.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan groaned softly. He ran a hand over his lower face and beard while shaking his head, seeing the misstep his once Padawan had just made.

“Sir?” The newcomer glanced from Anakin towards him and he felt all eyes on him instantly. 

“Feral,” he corrected instantly as he turned to face the person who was walking towards them. Then, in a painful moment, he realized what Anakin had just said. He spun, eyes wild, and pointed a finger accusingly towards Obi-Wan. "You said we would help him! You lied to me. I am not hunting-”

“Feral, my dear,” Obi-Wan quickly moved to lay a hand on his shoulder. “We did not lie. Also, it is interesting you assume we meant your brother when Anakin mentioned the Sith.”

The spirits began to buzz against his skin again, but he didn’t sense a lie. They were just unsure, like he was, on what to do next. His gaze darted to Anakin and the man merely gave him an apologetic smile. Anakin had told Obi-Wan everything it seemed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel betrayed. Feral realized he had just allowed himself to be caught in an intricate web. The Jedi had their own agenda as he had his, and now he was going to have to figure out how to maneuver things so he did save Savage. 

“Commander,” Obi-Wan was turning to address someone else approaching them, dismissing the outburst without a word. “Feral is in need of a meal, some new clothes, and a place to rest. I think perhaps near my quarters would be best, if we have the room to spare.”

What in the spirits was going on?

“Now hang on a minute, Master,” Anakin interrupted. “That hardly seems fair-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin has clearly adopted Feral by nicknaming him Fidge. Fidge is short for fidget because Feral does fidget without realizing it. I'll attempt to describe it more in chapters to come lol


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka narrowed her eyes while looking between the two of them. "Feral has done nothing to show he is someone not to trust."
> 
> "But I've done nothing to show I am trustworthy," he countered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff, much anxiety, and just Anakin being Anakin!

Days had passed since that moment of staring out at the sea of stars. Things had moved in such a way that was orchestrated by the Jedi, mysterious and complex. Feral found himself getting swept in their current. 

He couldn't exactly complain. 

They had given him a means to escape Dathomir. He also couldn't complain about his room or his new clothes, he honestly couldn't complain about anything, but he wanted to utter words anyway. Feral was out of his element and felt like he was floundering. He was a mere moment from falling beneath the current he couldn't control. This wasn't like anything he knew, the spirits were oddly silent for the moment. Were they content? 

He didn't know. 

He did, however, know that some of the clones had to be laughing behind his back thanks to a stunt involving him nearly walking into a droid. The mechanical construct had shrieked something at him that he didn't understand why he tripped over himself in apologies. Anakin had rescued him, grabbing him by the back of the robe, and dragged him off towards the mess hall. The order was to eat and behave while the Jedi dealt with something else.

He had followed the command, but more because he didn't know what else to do.

The gaze he gave the bowl of slop in front of him could best be described as mullish. Feral wasn't entirely sure it was edible, despite reassurances it was. The smell made his stomach turn. He wanted meat, hot seasoned meat, not this strange colored gruel. He knew he should be happy they were even feeding him, but a small part of him wondered if this was some sort of punishment. A prank even.

The sound of a tray being set down across from him had him glancing up with mild embarrassment. He had been caught pouting at his food, but at least it hadn't been Anakin who caught him. He wasn't trying to be unthankful, honest, but adapting to life amongst the stars wasn't easy. Feral knew the soldiers were waiting on him to do something violent and he knew the Jedi were merely biding their time. They were going to interrogate him at some point. They needed to find Savage for different reasons than him and he knew Anakin would get frustrated with the lack of information he could give. 

The fake kindness would vanish.

It would dry up like rain once they realized he hadn't had anymore dreams from the spirits. He didn't know where his brother was.

"You know," Anakin's Padawan said with faint amusement, "you have to actually put that in your mouth. Staring at it isn't going to get the meal to go faster." 

Ahsoka. Her name was Ahsoka. Feral gave a slight nod and tugged at the sleeve of the snug black turtleneck he was wearing. A set of dark robes, borrowed from Anakin, helped keep him warm and made him feel like he was play acting at being something he wasn't. He wasn't a Jedi. He shouldn't have these.

"It...just doesn't exactly smell pleasant," he finally admitted. Ahsoka snorted with laughter before pushing a piece of fruit across the table at him. He glanced at the fruit and then at her, a question on the tip of his tongue.

"Look, I know this has to be...different? I mean from what Skyguy said you come from a small village and aren't used to all this-" She waved her fork through the air to everything around them. "It's got to be unsettling. When I first arrived at the front lines I was unsure too. Obi-Wan and Anakin are good people, trust me."

Feral cautiously took the fruit and studied the smooth purple skin with interest. "It isn't that," he finally said softly. "I mean this is very different, but that isn't what unsettles me." Ahsoka sat patiently, clearly waiting on him to explain. He had seen how she interacted with the soldiers, treated them like brothers, and he wasn't sure he wanted to insult them in front of her. He worried at his lower lip while he tried to sort out just what to say. Interacting with people not from his village was turning out to be an interesting battlefield. He didn't know what word or phrase would sour them against him finally. "They don't trust me," he finally said bluntly. 

Vague, but honest. 

Ahsoka blinked and tilted her head to the side slightly. Confusion seemed to softly radiate from her. "I think they do? I mean they brought you here and Skyguy gave you a nickname-" He shook his head hard, stopping her words. She had misunderstood. 

"He means us," Rex said while slamming his own tray down on the table. Feral tensed as the man sat down next to Ahsoka. Oh, it seemed he had been speaking too loudly. Well, that or the clones had the hearing of a shriek hawk. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Rex," Ahsoka actually sounded offended. "Why would he mean you-"

"They look at me and it makes my skin hurt," Feral blurted out. Rex raised an eyebrow while Ahsoka fixed him with a look. "It is like a swarm of angry swamp flies biting me. You are waiting on me to pull some weapon free and attempt to murder the people helping me!" His cheeks darkened with embarrassment and frustration. He hadn't really meant to say all of that, but he wasn't going to take the words back.

Rex didn't deny the allegation, instead merely made a show of putting some sort of sauce on his own food. There was a pause and then the small bottle of sauce was pushed across the table. "It adds spice, don't use too much." 

That was a peculiar action.

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes while looking between the two of them. "Feral has done nothing to show he is someone not to trust."

"But I've done nothing to show I am trustworthy," he countered before setting the fruit down in favor of the small bottle. Rex pointed a fork at him while nodding. This was the strangest conversation he had taken part of in awhile. Rex was agreeing with him, and yet, he still felt like he was some sort of invader. Well, actually, he was, wasn't he? He had forced himself at Anakin and Obi-Wan all so he could find his brother. He was using them and they, in turn, were using him. He frowned down at the bottle. 

"He is an unknown, also real jumpy." Feral winced. Okay, so maybe he was anxious and overreacting to new sounds, but there was no need to point that out. "His brother is a Sith-"

"But that doesn't mean he is," Ahsoka interrupted rather hotly. "And come on! This has to be like a lot, plus he isn't a soldier. He isn't going to react like you or me."

Feral began to chew on the inside of his cheek while he listened to them debate about him like he wasn't there. He almost felt like he was invisible, what with how they were talking about him so openly. It was a peculiar feeling. His nails picked at the lid of the hot sauce before he finally popped the bottle open. He brought it up to his nose and took a tentative sniff. There was a faint sting in his eyes.

"He could be a spy," Rex countered. 

He shook a small drop out onto his finger. The color was familiar enough. Feral licked the hot sauce clean and found himself trying to place the flavor. Heat, anger, home.

It wasn't bad.

"I don't think Master Kenobi would bring him on board if he was a spy," Ahsoka retorted.

Feral blinked and glanced at them. They weren't even looking at him now, instead they were facing each other while heatedly conversing. "He could be waiting to see if I send messages, which could be intercepted-" 

"Yes, exactly. Best way to catch a spy!" Rex slapped a hand on the table and then froze. Ahsoka blinked and then snickered. Both of them gave him slightly sheepish looks. The clone had just agreed with him in a very aggressive way. The look on Rex's face transformed to one he recognized- bitter. Rex looked like he had bitten straight into an uncooked topato and discovered the unappealing flavor. Yes, Feral agreed, this was confusing for all of them. 

"Sorry," he mumbled while rolling the small bottle of sauce around in his fingers as a means to dispel some nervous energy. "I just mean. It is possible I could be a spy. I'm not, but… it isn't wrong to doubt me."

He could feel their gazes fixed solely on him now, but he refused to look up from the bottle. A sort of shocked silence filled the area right before hands landed on his shoulders. Feral tensed instantly. 

He hasn't sensed anyone walking up behind him, but the voice he heard had him relaxing just a fraction. 

“Hey Fidge, after you finish eating you can join me and Snips for some meditation,” Anakin said in a tone that made it sound like it wasn’t an actual suggestion. He glanced up from the bottle in his hands and noticed the flicker of confusion on Ahsoka’s face before it vanished.

“Skyguy, but you-”

“I think that is a great idea, Sir,” Rex interrupted. 

His fingers stilled against the bottle. How would this help him find Savage? The more he thought about it the more he realized they really hadn’t done much to start looking for his brother. No, if anything both Obi-Wan and Anakin had set about making sure he was housed, clothed, and fed. His nose began to scrunch up in annoyed confusion. Why were they treating him so nicely?

“Stop thinking so hard, Fidge,” Anakin drawled out before hooking some fingers around his horns. Feral tipped his head back just enough to stare at the Jedi in surprise. “We need to work on your shielding. I can sense your unease, and honestly, what is there to be uneasy about? You are surrounded by great people!”

Rex snorted into his food. Feral cast a glance towards the man in mild confusion. 

The meal finished quickly after that and he soon found himself sitting on the ground across from Anakin. Ahsoka sat next to him, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. 

"Right, clear your mind and focus on your breathing. Close your eyes," Anakin said cheerfully. 

Feral blinked. Do what now?

"Come on, Fidge, just do what I do!"

"Master, maybe we should get Master Kenobi-"

"It's fine, Snips. You and I can handle this."

Handle what? Feral rested his fists against his thighs while trying to sort out exactly what was going on. Was this something to help figure out how to save his brother?

"Fidge, focus. Match your breathing to mine and just think about a calm body of water while you clear your mind."

The swamp formed in his mind while he did as instructed. Smooth, calm, familiar. Feral felt his eyes twitch beneath his closed eyelids just before the swamp seemed to call to him. He focused harder before it felt like he toppled straight into the thick waters.

_He raised a hand towards his brother. Savage looked different, felt different in his mind, but he knew it was still his brother. There was something dark that coiled in the very air around the older Zabrak. Ill intent and malice._

_Something was poisoning his brother._

_The spirits were crying._

_His gaze shifted to the ground at his brother's feet. Twisted and mutilated. Corpses._

_Death painted everything._

_"Savage," he yelled. Words felt like bark against his throat. "Brother, please! Do not walk this path! You are dripping in blood-"_

_A sound filled the space between them. A snap followed by an electronic hiss. Light flared. Feral raised his arms in front of him defensively. The pulsing red glare slashed down towards him._

_Savage was willing to make him another dead body. How unlike his brother!_

Feral gasped. The mere sensation of the inhalation of air hurt for some reason, rather like he had been screaming himself hoarse. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, attempting to block out the piercing pain in his skull. Everything was bright. 

Savage, his brother, was slaughtering people. The spirits were distraught.

"Hey, it's okay." Hands were gently pulling him up. "Snips, get Obi-Wan. And some blankets."

"I'm cold," he whispered. 

"I know. Just stay with me, buddy. We'll get you warm."

Feral turned his face against a shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feral is having a time.


End file.
